Lads' Day Out
by Evelyn Ransom
Summary: This is indeed that wildly controversial FanFic you have heard about on the boards. It is how I imagine Sirius and Hagrid might spend a day out. Guest appearances by Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin. R for violence and language.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: All characters (excepting Fleet) were created by J.K. Rowling, and I'm just borrowing them for this story, which is completely made up by me.

Hagrid spied Sirius Black sitting gloomily at a corner table staring into a glass of Butterbeer.  
"Alright, Sirius?"  
"Aye, no bad."  
"No mind, eh?" Hagrid sloppily helped himself to Sirius's drink. Sirius would have none of it.  
"Get ta fuck, ya cunt!"  
"Dinnae get wide wit' us laddie," warned Hagrid affectionately. "You ken the quidditch Setirday? Pudd. U. v. Caerphilly... fuckin' drastic, mate." Sirius didn't seem interested; he was staring at a large wizard who had just entered the pub.  
"D'ya ken that gobshite?" Hagrid turned in his seat for a better view. "Fuckin' wideo calls himself a hard cunt. See how fuckin' hard..."  
"Lookin' to get slashed, that radge bastard. No fuckin' doubt abo' it."   
"Aye," said Sirius, "bout time he got his nut, eh, whatsay?"

Scarponi Fleet was very pleased with himself indeed. "Another of the same, James," he said, vaguely handling some Galleons and trying to find a comfortable balance of his ample girth on the stool. As newly promoted Minister of Wizarding Transportation he had every reason to congratulate himself. After all, it wasn't his fault that his predecessor happened to unwisely try out the new Apparating Booth before it was properly gone over. He certainly had nothing to do with the catastrophic error which resulted in the former Minister's many pieces being liberally sprinkled over the North Sea... no matter what the women in the secretaries' pool said.  


A very large bearded man in a moleskin coat budged up to the bar next to Fleet; a smaller wizard with tired eyes and a nasty scowl stood a little behind him.  


"Oi Barkeep, got any peanuts?" asked Hagrid, jostling Fleet with his elbow. "Sorry there, mate. No much room..." Hagrid extended a giant hand towards Fleet. "Name's Snape, Sev-er-us Snape, with an 'e', and this is my friend Lucius Malfoy." Sirius, grinning wickedly, pumped Fleet's hand up and down.   
"What are you having?" asked Sirius trying his best to seem like a complete ponce.   


Fleet had of course heard of Lucius Malfoy; he had never seen him up close but this man certainly looked mean enough to be a Death Eater. He had never heard of anyone called Snape, though. But after about twenty minutes of good drinking and camaraderie, all his suspicions melted away. They had seemed very impressed when told of his new promotion, and even laughed heartily at his story of the last Minister's untimely demise. After much backslapping and winking, the one called Snape went as far as to say the old minister was "a dozy prat!" When it came time to say goodbye as his money was all spent (Fleet later realized that he had in fact paid for all the drinks, and even the giant's peanuts), he was sad to see the backs of his new friends. Malfoy had made it halfway to the door when he stopped suddenly as if struck by a briliant idea.  
"I was just about to leave when it hit me - here I am talking to the Minister of Wizarding Transportation and what do I have outside but my new Firebolt, just came today. So c'mon, Scarpers, out we go and you can give her a swish!"  


Hagrid had to hide the tears running down his face, so shocked was he by Sirius' transformation from dour wizard to effete wanker. The Animagus had more sides than a..... many-sided thing Hagrid would think of later when he wasn't quite so drunk.  


"Brilliant, Lucius. I'd love to have a go. But I'm no Hamish MacFarlan, mind." Hagrid and Sirius ushered Fleet out the side door and into a dingy alley.  
"Right over here, Scarpers!" cheered Sirius to a slightly confused Minister of Wizarding Transportation.  


"But I don't..." Fleet was interrupted by a push from behind that sent him sprawling into a rubbish pile.  
"Course you don't, ya thick cunt!" shouted Hagrid, rushing the prone figure and putting a large boot into its side. Fleet coughed out a splutter of a gasp.  
"No fuckin' Hamish MacFarlan! Ya Montrose bastard!" Sirius had turned Fleet over and grabbed him by the robe.  
"You see me? Aye, ya had better fuckin' well open yer eyes! Next time yer dead, ya shitein' cunt! Fuckin dead! I'm Lucius fuckin' Malfoy! And I hate the Montrose Magpies!" Sirius was shaking Fleet furiously and spitting his words with rage into the fat man's face. Suddenly he went calm and dropped his victim. Fleet fell back into a pile of refuse and lay still, sobbing.  
"Please, I'm sorry... please!"  
Hagrid looked down at the snivelling red face of the wizard. Poor sod had never even reached for his wand. The half-giant leaned down and whispered in Fleet's ear.  
"That's Snape... with an 'e'." He got up and pulled Sirius away.  


"Some fuckin' wide cunt. You tell anyone an' yer dead, fat man." Sirius never looked back as he stalked out of the alley, Hagrid close behind.  


"Did ya mean what ye said back there?"  
"Eh?" asked Sirius, jolted from his silent fury. "What, about killin' him?"  
"No, about the Montrose Magpies. Hamish MacFarlan was no bad player..."  


Sirius Black stopped dead in his tracks. 


	2. Lads' Day Out: Enter Snape

A/N: In this chapter we see Snape and learn of his dark secret, and our heroes get one step closer to seeing the Quidditch.   


"What? You takin' the piss?" inquired Sirius skeptically.  
"Whae me? The president of the Maggie fan club, me. Aye, ya wee radge! Had ya goin' but," laughed the giant.  
"Ya cunt ya!" Sirius found it impossible to keep a straight face, and dissolved into chuckles himself as they walked quickly from the scene of their recent crime.  
"Montrose Magpies, fuckin' lot o' prize squibs, and no mistake. Fly like Muggles with brooms up their arses."  


Sirius nodded absently, half his mind being occupied with listening for any Sirens Charms in the distance. He heard none, and began to relax.  
"Anyway, I found these on the fat fuck back there...." Hagrid produced glimmering Quidditch tickets. "Looks like we're goin' to the game, eh?"  
"Aye, fuckin' brilliant mate. Where's the portkey?"  
Hagrid squinted closely at the back of the tickets, "Er... Djinn's Cave o' Curry... oh, aye, ya ken it, the kebab shop?"  
"Aye, no' a bad vindaloo."  
"Best get there, we've missed the fuckin' mascots. I love the mascots." Hagrid sniffed and rubbed his nose, shivering as if to blame the chill air.  
"Oi, no greetin' over no fuckin' mascots! Ya biscuit-ersed cunt."  
"Ta fuck..." Hagrid gave Sirius a small shove, sending the Animagus halfway across the street. Sirius laughed happily and bounded after his friend. It was then that his eye was caught.  


"Hold up, Hazzers. Look, it's the cunt himself." Sirius grabbed his friend's generous sleeve and guided his drunken gaze across the street. It was a few seconds before Hagrid recognized the "cunt" in question.  
"Fuckin' Snape!" he hissed.  


Severus Snape looked furtively up and down the street before leaving "Radchencko's Magical Vinyl Shoppe" with a thin square packet under his arm.  


"What's the geezer up to then?"  
"Hssh, get over here." Hagrid pulled his friend a little ways into an alley, and put his finger to his lips. Looking up in the air he shouted: "Oi, Severus, you oily-haired cunt!"  


Snape froze in mid-street, twisting this way and that looking for his persecutor. Other pedestrians stared at Snape and looked around in distaste.  
"Get back to yer potions, ye arse shagger!" Hagrid covered his mouth and slid down the wall in a fit of laughter. Sirius Black took the packet of peanuts from the half-giant's hand. Waving his wand over the bag he whispered, "Impetus Arachis", and the peanuts flew from the bag and around the corner.  


After a few breaths of silence, Snape decided the abuse had ended. No doubt some jealous swine from school had cast the "Offensive Name Curse" on him. But it seemed safe enough now..._smack_ He felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, as if pelted by a small hard salt-covered object. He turned, only to be struck in the face by two salted peanuts. Snape began to run, a swarm of peanuts rapidly gaining on him. He swore to himself someone would pay for this.  


"I'd give fifty Galleons to see the look on that ponce's face when he's done running," said a nearly-recovered Hagrid.  
"Fuckin' radge, what's the cunt doin' in a record shop? Doss bastard!"  
"I dinnae tell ya?" asked Hagrid as he rose and dusted his pants. "I caught the cunt in his room, mixin' on the turntables... scratchin'."  
"No, fir fuck's sake."  
"Oh aye, 'course he said they're a mates, jes' holdin' 'em likes, but no ol' cuntybaws fancies hisself a DJ."  
Sirius considered this shocking new intelligence: "Fuckin' wanker!" 


	3. Lads' Day Out: Portkey and Vindaloo

A/N: In this chapter Arthur Weasley makes a brief appearance (to be fully explained in another story), as our heroes seek out a Portkey.  


Arthur Weasley had been having a very bad day indeed. So bad was it, that he could not fully appreciate the fine quality of his chicken vindaloo.  
He had just come from a disastrous interview with Remus Lupin at the Ministry of Magic. He had done all he could think of to help the lad, but Lupin seemed intent on sabotaging his own chances. Arthur tried not to dwell on this disappointment; youth made you do strange things. Biting the hand that feeds. He allowed himself a grim smile at his own poor choice in cliche.   


Again he fixed his attention on his dinner.  
He wondered what his wife was cooking at home in the Burrow. Definitely not chicken vindaloo. Molly had no place in her heart for exotic and spicy tastes. Like that smart little lace-up he had given her for Christmas a few years back. She had insisted on wearing her bath robe over it that night. Indeed, youth made you do strange things.  
She had not, even after all these years, lost her erotic appeal to him. But after seven children, he felt, even a Satyr would be tempted to spend a quiet night engaged in an intimacy no greater than sorting his lover's socks.  
Taking another bite, Arthur Weasley decided that chicken vindaloo and his wife would not get on.   


The door of Djinn's Cave of Curry opened and in walked Sirius Black followed closely by Rubeus Hagrid.  


Arthur Weasley had just settled his bill and was putting on his hat when he spotted the rough-looking duo.  
"Hallo, Sirius, Hagrid."  
"Alright, Arthur?"  
"Evenin', Mr. Weasley, and how's the family?"  
"Very well, thank you, Hagrid. 'Matter of fact I'm off home right now. And you two?"  
"We've got tickets for the game." Sirius gestured towards the lavatories.  
"Aye, and if ye'll excuse me, I'd kill fir some nan bread." Hagrid moved towards the proprietor, leaving the other two men standing uncomfortably silent for a second.  


"Sirius, I saw Remus today."  
"Oh?"  
"Yes, he was in for an interview at the Ministry. A bit of a muddle really. He seemed a little... out of sorts."  


"Oh." Sirius cursed himself for being so thick. Stammering "Oh" endlessly was not going to impress anyone. There was no denying he felt incredibly awkward in the presence of Arthur Weasley, as if he was a student up in front of a professor again - an idea made more nonsensical in light of their closeness in age.  
"Oh," he repeated, "He's been under a lot of pressure lately. He'll come 'round." What a stupid thing to say, he thought.  
"I'm sure he will, but its probably best if he avoids the Ministry for awhile. Maybe he needs some kind of diversion. See what you can do for him, Sirius. He needs a friend."  


"Best fu-, best fresh nan to be had. Ready, Sir?" Hagrid had returned and was eagerly munching a fistful of warm flatbread. Sirius used the interruption to muster his thoughts.  
"Right. Thanks for the advice Arthur, I'll see what I can do."  


For a moment the two men stared at each other, each seeing in the other a life which might have been his, had circumstances been different.  


"Good, good. Well, goodnight, lads. Have fun at the game."  
"'Night, Mr. Weasley," said Hagrid, between mouthfuls.  
"Goodnight, Arthur."  
Arthur Weasley turned and walked out the door. Sirius watched the door close on him, and on a life with a wife, a family, and a warm home.  


"Portkey's through here."  
"Oh... aye." Sirius snapped out of his thoughts and followed the giant to the lavatory.  


Inside they crammed themselves into the last stall and closed the door behind them.  
"Do this often, sailor?" Hagrid fluttered his enormous eyelashes.  
"Fuck off, ya giant buftie! Where's the Portkey?"  
Hagrid consulted the backs of the tickets.  
"Aye. Right by yer foot."  
Sirius looked down. He saw beside the toilet a very wet copy of "Home Botanicals' Illustrated Magazine". They both touched the foul periodical with the toes of their boots, and felt themselves being pulled through space... 


	4. Lads' Day Out: The Game

A/N: In this chapter the lads finally make it to the game. Special appearance by Dumbledore.  


The Portkey took them to a large rolling moor upon which was erected a stadium. Cheers echoed across the darkening dips and swells of the ground, and discarded food and fliers lay mingled amongst the heather.  


A witch glanced briefly at their tickets before waving them rather noncommittally to the southern side of the stands. Hagrid eyed the food vendors so hungrily that Sirius almost expected him to start drooling and licking his lips. Sirius bought them both fresh Butterbeers, hoping to pacify the half-giant. As they began their ascent into the stands, the crowd roared with an equal mixture of joy and frustration.   


The game was Puddlemere United v. Holyhead Harpies and was already 3 hours into play. Sirius and Hagrid stood on the steps looking for some open seats when they heard a familiar voice.  


"Sirius, Hagrid! Over here, lads!" They were able to spot a waving Albus Dumbledore on the higher level. He was still flailing excitedly when they finally reached him sitting in his brand new navy blue Puddlemere U. away robes.  
"Eh, Albus," said Sirius as he sat down. Hagrid tried to squeeze into a seat, spilling his Butterbeer and leaning on a fat wizard's head for support . "No bother, eh, mate?" The fat wizard, crimson-faced, turned back to the game.  
"Wonderful game. Best I've seen the Harpies play since the 1953 win over the Harriers. Mind you I was in the stands all seven days for that one...." Dumbledore brought them up to date on the game whilst passing out tins from a carryout sitting by his feet amongst a pile of discarded empties.  


Two hours later, the twinkle had left Dumbledore's eyes. It was cold, and raining a drenching mist rain, and he was running low on refreshment. He had taken in the last half-hour to variously praising sportsmen of the past or sitting morose and silent, watching the game with obvious distaste. Sirius studied his friend's new robes and team scarf and thought that in contrast Dumbledore was looking very old, and more than a little worn.  
Hagrid decided he fancied a quick snack of chips, and set off in search of a chipperie.   
Sirius and Dumbledore sat quietly for a few minutes, ostensibly watching the game. In reality they were awaiting the other to speak.   


"Are you still having those nightmares, Sirius?" Dumbledore's voice was so quiet, that Sirius was not sure he hadn't imagined the question.  
"No, fit as a fiddle, me. Just dreams about leggy witches, yeah." Remus must have told him, he thought. He would straighten that out tonight.  
"Still, Azkaban changes a man." He could feel Dumbledore's gaze fall on him. Sirius kept his eyes locked on the game. Neither of the men reacted when the Harpies scored with the Quaffle.  
"Well, it's no garden party!" He laughed weakly. He wanted to get out of there. He wanted out now.  
He saw Hagrid coming back and stood up, trying to push towards his friend. It was time they left. He didn't need Dumbledore telling him about Azkaban and what it did to a man. He knew exactly what it did.  


Hagrid saw Sirius get up and start towards him. He shot Dumbledore a quizzical look. Dumbledore stared down at a can he was holding in his hands. He looked cold. Should have some chips, thought Hagrid.   


There was a shout. Sirius had collided with a wizard and knocked him off balance. The older wizard had fallen onto a group of half-drunk young students, who rose up in disgust and outrage. They were unaccustomed to having old men dropped in their laps, and weren't about to start getting used to it now.  
"Oi! The fuck's this, Matey?!" yelled the largest, baldest of the bunch. Sirius moved in closer to answer him.  


From Hagrid's vantage point, as he pushed into the developing melee, he saw Sirius quickly lean in towards the scruffy student as if to kiss him. There was a hollow crunch, and the tough's head flew back as he yowled in pain. A great upside-down red star seemed to have been painted in the middle of his face. Hagrid realised it was blood.  


People began to scream. Fathers tried to move their children away from the growing riot. Other wizards started firing flares into the air from their wands. Only Sirius seemed to be enjoying himself.  
Hagrid waded to the center of the action. He watched as his friend's steel-capped boot connected with a young wizard's genitals. He saw another student trying to aim his wand at Sirius, and with a powerful grab Hagrid both disarmed the boy and broke his wrist.  
Most of the would-be combatants had begun to retreat. The wizard who Sirius had initially head-butted was now being kicked repeatedly by the Animagus. These were the little bastards who had sent him to Azkaban. These were the ones who had taken his future from him, and they would pay it all back.  
A man was watching the beating with an expression of horror. Hagrid quickly punched him to the side of his head, ripping the man's ear. That would give him something to tell the lads in the office, thought Hagrid. He then reached a giant arm around Sirius's middle and lifted him, legs still kicking, into the air and away from his unconscious victim.  
"C'mon laddie. Ye've shown 'em enough, eh?"  
"Fuckin' cunts! Wanna get wide? I'll fuckin' tear yer fuckin' heads off!"  


Yellow sparks began to appear in the air above them, the security had arrived. Two security wizards stood at the foot of the moaning carnage that had moments before been a group of Quiddditch spectators. Sirius quieted as he watched their approach.  
One of the men looked at them and grimaced. He didn't fancy his odds at trying anything against these two radges.  
"I'm afraid we will have to ask you to leave with us, gentlemen. There is no fighting allowed in the stadium. You'll have to come with us... or there will be trouble." God help him if they made him back this up, he thought.  
"No fuckin' cause!" bellowed Hagrid at the two highly intimidated security men.  
"Come now gentlemen. Rules are rules." said the braver of the two, clutching tightly to his wand and feeling very self-conscious in his neon yellow standard issue robes. His companion stood dumbly beside him, tensed to take the first blow or curse.  
"Lads are just letting off steam," offered a by this time very drunk Dumbledore. "Nothing wrong with letting of some steam, surely." He sank back into glumness.  
"Can we help it if some jakey bastard takes a trip on the stair. For fuck's sake, we're jist tryin' to enjoy our chips an' watch the Quidditch. No fuckin' rules 'gainst that....completely fuckin' out o' order!" Sirius was working himself into another frenzy.   
Hagrid thought it might be time to leave after all. 


	5. Lads'Day Out: The Rave

They stood for a moment in the growing darkness watching nothing but the emptiness of the street. Ejected. Sirius closed his eyes and balled his fists. Steam wafted off his soaked denim jacket.  
"They'll pay," he whispered.  
Hagrid assumed Sirius was talking about the security at the game, but then he thought he caught the word, "Azkaban."  
They began to walk aimlessly at first, until Sirius made up his mind.  
"We're going to see Lupin, that cunt."

The rave had been on for little over an hour. Just an underground thing, it took up a neglected warehouse. Remus Lupin said something strange, causing the three witches in the chillout area to laugh again. The one girl in his lap shook in silent giggles and he ran a liberal hand up beneath her "Stubby Boardman Lives" T-shirt, feeling the soft skin of her side. The flesh was warmer than usual, probably a result of whatever she was on. He determinedly explored farther.  
He could see Snape across the room, near the DJ, going through an oversized bag full of records. Severus was talking to a girl. Maybe "talking" was a misnomer--they conversed through hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions, unable to hear each other's voice above the sound. Snape made to check his watch, elaborately raising it to eye level. His sleeve slid down his pale arm revealing a tattoo, the dark mark.   
Lupin watched as the girl's eyes lit up appreciatively, then he turned his attention back to himself and his "friends."   
"Shall we dance?" he shouted to the occupant of the chair next to him. She just smiled and tousled his hair.

The weed of a boy who watched the door with his two oafish friends gave a halfhearted attempt of squeezing a few Galleons from Sirius, who repaid the effort with a quick punch to the lower ribs. The boy dropped with a moan. The oafs drew themselves up warily, alert to the pretaste of violence.  
"No damage done, lads. Best to keep it that way, eh?" soothed Hagrid.  
Sirius gave them a square look and growled, "Try me."  
"Fuckin' bastard," the weed spat. Hagrid stepped directly on the boys hand, the heel of his motorcycle boot crushing the bones.  
"Oops." Then he and Sirius strode into the warehouse without another word.

Lupin bit the girl's ear playfully as she mimed struggling in his arms.  
"Did I have you in my class once?"  
"You can have me anywhere, you bad wolfie," she laughed, running her tongue over his cheek. She gave a little "Ooomph" as he stood ,dropping her onto the floor. She was confused and, looking beside her, saw a pair of dull black boots, combat boots she thought. A dark tired looking man was looking down at her.  
"Who's your friend, Remus?" Sirius helped the girl to her feet. "That's the problem with our man here, love. Remus can't help but dump his friends when someone new comes along."  
Remus sighed. "I didn't expect to see you here, Sirius. Hello, Hagrid."  
Hagrid was busy staring at the young girls and their breasts and didn't respond.  
"Thought we'd see how the other half lives."  
"Well, what do you think?"  
Sirius smiled and took a quick drink from a bottle he'd brought out of his pocket. He rolled the liquor for a moment on his tongue and then, spitting it onto the cement floor, sneered.  
"It's piss, Remus."

Snape had, after insinuating himself into the DJ's good graces, taken over at the decks, covering a quick toilet break. He cradled the headphone to his ear, nodding his head to the pulsing rhythm, smiling at his own skill as he mixed the next song in, beat by beat. He had chosen "Disapparation" by Livia and the Poisoners. He liked the texture of the noise as it came up to him, and so did the crowd. The air seemed dirty and the space maybe a little closer. Bodies began to press more frenetically against one another. Looking down at the spinning disc, he imagined he could smell the newness of the vinyl above the sweat and the sex and the chemicals. A clean smell with a dirty sound.

"Now, now, lassie," blushed Hagrid as he pushed away a young girl, too young a girl, who wanted to see which half was giant.  
Lupin looked wearily into Sirius's eyes.  
"What do you want?"  
"I'm just out to have a good time. Night out, yeah. With my friend, Hazzers, and my old school chum." Sirius threw the bottle and it exploded against the wall, noiselessly below an electric bass. The girls tensed up at that and Remus whistled. Sirius chuckled. "Like old times, eh, Moony? You fuckin' ponce."  
"Aye, come wit' us for a bite and a wee drink," invited Hagrid, who now had his arms in the air and was rotating his pelvis grotesquely to the music.  
"No, thank you, Hagrid."  
Hagrid glanced at Sirius, "What's wit' him? Wrong time o' the month, like?" He guffawed at his own joke 'til he caught the cold look in Black's eye.  
"You're drunk, Hagrid," said Sirius.  
Hagrid stopped dancing. Understanding of his faux pas slowly sank down through layers of drink, exhaustion, and social imbecility. "Sorry, that was out o' order. Ye ken I widnae mention...well, ye'r..."  
Remus smiled. "It's all right, Hagrid."  
"It's no' alright. I'm sorry. I...it's late. Haveta help Dumbledore the morn."  
Sirius looked on Hagrid with disgust. "What a fuckin' waster."

Snape had just looked up from the decks when the police came in. He pulled the needle up, not scratching the record, but still dumping the warehouse back down down down into its previous existence as a dark and damp furniture storage lockup. The ravers looked first to the DJ and then to the doors. Immediately the crowd burst as Ministry men tried to get their hands on underfed teens and pedarastic thirty somethings. It was chaos. Snape slid his albums into the sleeves and began carefully but quickly packing up.  
The loud bangs of disapparating dancers and the flare-up of illegal bonfires connected to the Floo network filled the air, casting dark shadows and sending ominous and stormlike echoes out into the street. Wands were drawn, curses exchanged, screams rose.

"Oh, fir fuck!" cried Hagrid as he scrambled drunkenly for one of the exits.   
Sirius seemed determined to stand his ground. He watched as the uniformed and plainclothed men waded towards him through the crowd.  
"Let it come down," he whispered. He slowly drew out his wand.  
Lupin thought for a moment and then grabbed the first man to have escaped from Azkaban by the shoulder.  
"Come on," he shouted and after a few steps, Sirius began to follow him.

Snape had sealed his bag of precious records and was dodging ravers and the police. He skidded to a halt as two burly men barred his way.  
"I just do the music!" he explained, looking for another escape route.  
The smaller man grabbed him.  
"Snape? Severus Snape?!"  
"Yes?"  
"Snape with an 'e'?"  
Just as Snape agreed that he was indeed Snape with an 'e' a cosh was brought down on his head, sending him spiralling into blackness.  
"Vicious little bastard," commented the first policeman.  
The other spoke into his cuff. "Boss, we've got the one what did the Minister." He paused to listen to the response on the other end. "Yeah, he put up a bit of a fight. Had to be subdued."  
The little cop kicked Snape experimentally. There would be time for more of that later.

Outside Remus and Sirius ran pelting down an alleyway. Just like old times, thought Lupin, and he laughed in a way that threatened hysteria or at least exhaustion. It seemed a fair distance from the warehouse and Remus slowed down to catch his breath. Sirius slammed into him, sending the surprised lycanthrope into a slime-covered brick wall.  
Remus nearly choked as his cheek scraped against the hard pebbled stone. He felt as if he might vomit. Sirius was shouting something at him. Something about Dumbledore. The first punch hit Lupin in the jaw, the second somewhere around his ear. Sirius snarled and pulled back his bruised hand.  
"You thickheaded cunt!" Black kicked out at Lupin but missed. "You fuckin' bastard," he spat.  
Lupin leaned against the wall and weakly blocked Sirius next strike.  
"Fuck off, you nutter." He pushed Sirius away. He heard only deep and wild breathing.   
He looked up into the tip of Black's wand. "Going to kill me, Padfoot?" Lupin asked with a bravado he didn't feel. He slid down onto the ground.  
Sirius aimed the wand at a space between Lupin's eyes.  
"You think you know about Azkaban? You and Dumbledore and the others?! You don't know a fucking thing!" Sirius almost couldn't see from the tears streaming down his face. "You don't know a thing," he repeated. "You know what they did to me?"  
Lupin shook his head.  
Black pulled back the wand and thrust it forward with a bizarre flourish -- "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Nothing happened. "Expecto Patronum!" The tip of the wand shook but nothing issued from it. Not even a spark. "Expecto...fuck." Sirius collapsed at his friend's feet. "They took it from me. They took it. I can't even cast a Patronus. I can't..." Spent, Sirius lay there in amidst the rubbish.  
Lupin dropped his head and covered his face with his hand.  
Sirius rose shakily to his knees. "You can do it, Remus! C'mon, kill me. C'mon!" Sirius swayed kneeling with his eyes closed. 'Kill me, you fuck."  
Remus slid his own wand out of pocket and pointed it at his friend.  
"Please, Moony."  
Remus tightened his grip on the wand, and then whispered, "Dormiso."

Sirius tipped over as the spell hit him. His body relaxed and he groaned quietly as he was overcome by a deep and perhaps dreamless sleep.  
"Christ," announced Lupin gloomily. Then he got up to find a cab. 


	6. Lads Day Out: Lad No More

Remus kept his hands in his pockets as he walked down the familiar streets. The silence, the chill of the predawn air cheered him. It was as if the world, the vacant shops, tattered flyers, fading stars all shared his loneliness. And no city is more lonely than in those hours just before the sunrise.

Was it really only yesterday that he was being interviewed at the Ministry? Poor Arthur. He had tried so hard to help him. Gone through the trouble of recommending him and all. How had he been repaid?  
Well, it's not as though Lupin really expected them to give him the job, not with his past. Probably just throwing Weasley a bone. But my, how he had risen to that challenge!  
"Mr. Lupin, do you feel that there is anything in your disease that might hamper your efforts to completely discharge your duties as a clerk here at the Ministry?"  
"Aside from an overwhelming desire to tear my coworkers to pieces and gnaw on their hearts? No, nothing at all. Well, I do have a bit of carpal tunnel, truth be told."  
Arthur Weasley had covered his eyes with his hand. The other two office pashas had just turned pale and smiled awkwardly. End of interview. Don't call us, we'll call you. God, he was tired. Too tired to sleep anyhow.

What was Sirius dreaming about? he wondered. Remus himself only slept rarely now. He would remain awake for days abusing potions or spells, and when his body finally gave into the urge, he would fall into a dreamless, fitful stupor. He had too many worries and too many ideas to sleep.

There's not room in my bed for both me and my dreams, he joked silently. He repeated this a few times aloud, in hopes of scaring away the ghosts that crowded the edges of his mind.

Poor Sirius. Peter had betrayed all of us. Remus couldn't blame him wholly though, as he, himself, was a Secret-Keeper of sorts and a betrayer.

_"I will never tell him."  
"I know," she laughed, "that's why I chose you."_

His secret was the betrayal. He never told him, but somehow James seemed to know. A distance had grown between them. Had she told him? No. That would have been cruel, and she was never cruel.

_"I want it to be with you, Remus. You're gentle. You're the gentle one."_  
And now, he was the only one left. Sirius was broken, Peter was damned, and James and Lily... He was the gentle one, but he wasn't the one.

She had married James. And James, because he knew the secret, built a wall around her. He was so competitive, she was like a trophy to him. He had snatched her and won the game.

After it was over, Remus had tried to tell her how he felt, but she stopped him. She loved James who wasn't gentle, but who was right. She loved James, who was his friend.  
James and Lily are dead.

You're not the only one who hears her voice, Harry. If I had my way you'd both be mine.

He knew how unrealistic he was being. Without Lily and James there was no Harry. And without Harry there was only Voldemort.  
Am I selfish enough to risk the safety of the world for a woman who wouldn't let me say, "I love you"? He was.

The streets had ended and he had arrived at his goal, a rocky beach. The sky was growing light over the water and a cold wind blew in over the waves.

He was the one left behind. To do what? What's the point?

He picked up a rock. Lifetimes in the surf had worn its edges down to a point where it was almost perfectly spherical. Remus threw the rock as far as he could and watched it splash in the icy grey waves.

The next time that rock makes it to shore it will be perfect. I won't be here to see it. My part's done.

He turned away from the rising sun and headed home. But first, he would stop at a few shops. Some breakfast would do Sirius good. 


End file.
